An elderly, homosexual British Catholic writer, living in Malta, tells the story of his life, which is closely linked to that of a Catholic prelate who eventually becomes Pope and who, having died, is eligible for canonization. Ken Toomey, the writer, hobnobbed with other expatriate literati on the Continent and was affected by, and sometimes affected, some of the great trends and events of the 20th century, including the rise of fascism in Germany and Italy, the second world war, the efflorescence of African nationalism, and the battles over free publication of controversial works.

Toomey’s, and Burgess’s, chief concern is the problem of evil over the course of the century. The prelate departs from Christian orthodoxy in believing man to be good at birth and in blaming the devil for evil. Toomey might have been devout but for his sexual orientation, which the Church cannot accept. The novel is largely the working out of Toomey’s own view of evil in light of the actions of the Church and the beliefs of the prelate.  He eventually appears to settle for a more jaundiced view of mankind than the prelate, particularly when some of mankind’s perpetrations, under the influence of religion, are brought home to him in a vividly personal manner.

Earthly Powers is written in an entertainingly black-comic style. Toomey’s voice is archly droll, but can be deadly acerbic when he is so moved. A true Renaissance man of letters (despite the popular nature of his own output), he fills his “memoir” with allusions that kept me consulting a large stack of reference works, as well as with references to his own uncertainties of recall. In fact, there is a certain self-conscious literariness to this work, and those who like their novels filled with warm, realistic characters ripe for book group discussion should perhaps avoid it. Myself, I can take my Burgess along with my Tyler and not mind.

The book is, by my standards, long (300K words, or 649 pages), but I did not feel bogged down for any length of time, though there were some chapter sequences that seemed less compelling than others. I do not include among those some digressions from the main story thread, e.g., a sermon by the prelate, a gay rewrite of the Garden of Eden story by Toomey, which I found entertaining and relevant to the issues under consideration.

(Incidentally, Amazon’s lists of works cited omits one that is discussed fairly prominently, The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall.)

I have to read this one again. There is so much in it. History, religion, love, humour, zeitgeist ... loved the style and the jokes. Sometimes it is a bit of a challenging read, but well worth it.

One of the best first sentences I've had the pleasure of reading:

"It was the afternoon of my eighty-first birthday, and I was in bed with my catamite when Ali announced that the archbishop had come to see me."

Unlike many Big Books, Earthly Powers is a treat throughout. Burgess's Joycemania is on full display but seldom gets out of control.

"It was the afternoon of my eighty-first birthday, and I was in bed with my catamite when Ali announced that the archbishop had come to see me."

Earthly Powers is the linchpin of Anthony Burgess' novel-writing career. It is a massive work that compares favorably with similar tomes of twentieth century literature. What sets Burgess apart from other authors is his linguistic playfulness combined with an exceptional narrative style. Although this style is here somewhat less obviously experimental than that of Burgess’s other novels of this period, his use of a professional story teller as a first-person narrator allows him to call into the question the nature of authority in fictional texts. The narrative becomes a retrospective account of a life spent as an outsider. Within that account, Burgess locates his protagonist,Toomey, at some key moments of twentieth century history in order, it seems, to comment on those issues which consistently surface in all of Burgess’s fiction, particularly the nature of evil and its presence in the physical world. The novel attempts to address issues of belief, and the role of religion in late twentieth century culture, using a broad cast of characters, fictional and real; it is not, however, a roman à clef. Though often mentioned in reviews of this novel, the identification of Toomey with Somerset Maugham fails to recognise that Toomey is a portmanteau of many characters. He contains hints of Maugham, certainly, but there are suggestions of, to name a few, Alec Waugh in the precocious young novelist; of P. G. Wodehouse in the broadcaster from Berlin; of W. H. Auden in the rescuer of a Nobel laureate’s offspring; and of Burgess himself, the author of a real Blooms of Dublin. Burgess ability to meld this amalgam of characters into his protagonist reminds me of another favorite novel, The New Confessions by William Boyd, in which the author uses a similar technique to create a tremendously exciting and interesting protagonist. Throughout the novel, the emphasis is on the debate about the nature of evil rather than on the accuracy or otherwise of the references to twentieth century figures. The novel examines at length the nature of belief, the way in which people cope with an imperfect world, and the operation of evil and suffering. In doing so it succeeds in presenting a distinctive and compelling view of the twentieth century through the life of Toomey. It is both a challenging and rewarding read that I would recommend to all.

The book is written from the first person, as the main character's autobiography, from his perspective as an elderly man, just turning 81 in the opening chapter. The first sentence is hilarious! He uses the words "catamite" and "Archbishop" in the same sentence. The character, Kenneth Toomey, is a very successful author, both critically and with the public. He comes of age just as WWI is beginning and his story spans up through most of the seventies.

It makes me happy to read such a good book and to know that such a good author can be every bit as conflicted and messed up about something so simple. I may not be a great author like Burgess but I fully identify with the personal struggles he expresses in his writing; not so much the particulars of his struggle, but as a fellow neurotic who reacts in complicated ways to simple problems, especially if the simple problem has no clear solution.

I sat down to read this with my only awareness of Burgess being that he wrote "A Clockwork Orange." I'd never read that title and had no clear expectations, so the experience was like opening birthday presents after a very successful party. Anyhow, it was all a surprise and a delight.

All I could think was "why haven't I been told to read this?" After reading this title, I read his "A Dead Man in Deptford," without pause and without reading any review or criticism. I was astounded.

There are many deep reviews and critiques of Burgess, and Earthly Powers is given especial attention so there's no reason to write anything more. Read this damn book and read it now. Read about Burgess and about his writing. He's a great writer. OR at least a damn good writer.

An extraordinary life told in an extraordinary manner. Is the book too long? Probably, but it is too difficult to pick apart. There are no empty chapters. And each of the events, discussions or characters deserves all the hearing they receive.

So, why a lowly three stars? Once you pull back and think what it was all about, you are forced into a strait jacket. The main character, despite swearing off Christianity because, and it absolutely was (and would now be) completely incompatible with his homosexuality; despite this, he remains bizarrely polite to it throughout, and concerned with the precisions of dogma. This is, I feel, an unfortunate show-horning in of the author himself, who, despite purporting to be open-minded, constricted himself into the mind contortions required to be a Catholic. (Sarcasm doesn't sit well with Catholicism, but there's plenty of it here).

Just as big a crime is, if this book purports to be 'about religion and God', there isn't a shred of concern for anything apart from that one sect of that one religion. Religion and God are Catholicism, and that's the end of it. Ultimately then, the wittering on about this and that nonsensical creed, dogma or other bullshit, is utterly meaningless.

Nevertheless, I was not bored or frustrated. The 'happenings in the life of Kenneth J Toomey' really are deeply-felt, impactful and engaging. The mix of true history with not-true history is earned. I would have like the sarcasm to rip into the overly-respected cult it is ultimately about. But, no matter, really. Personally, I was hooked on the 'novel about a writer, with a composer as a main character' aspect of it as well, as I myself purport to be both.

Honestly, I thought I would never finish Earthly Powers. While I admire Anthony Burgess immensely as an author, this book was extraordinarily slow and dense. I read it unbelievably slowly, and could only handle less than 50 pages a sitting before having to put it down. The slowness is intentional, I think, but is still hard to handle.

One thing I did absolutely adore about Earthly Powers was the language. Anthony Burgess manipulated the English language fantastically, in a happiness-making way. I especially liked this sentence. "Stertile thunder tonitruated terribly." Um, can you say fabulous? The book does drag on though, and at points I simply didn't care about the storyline, which was unfortunate. When it was interesting, I got very engrossed, but this would only happen for about 20 pages every 100 pages. :(

This book is sort of a fictitious pastiche on the life of William Somerset Maugham; at least that was my take on it. I still remember the sadness I felt when I finished reading this for the first time, not because of the narrative, but because I couldn’t keep on reading this incredibly epic story. I no longer have my hardback addition but I remember writing down the date on the last page when I first finished Earthly Powers, and then doing it again the second time I finished it.

I remember being completely bewildered when I heard my parents tell me that they had read a book more than once; there were too many books in the world to read anything twice. Sometimes I would give anything to be able to read something that I love again for the first time, but subsequent readings can be almost as joyous. I look forward to reading Earthly Powers again so whoever borrowed my copy, please return it, you freaking deadbeat.

I hadn't heard of Earthly Powers before I discovered it at my local library. I borrowed it because the blurb compelled me and I knew of Anthony Burgess from A Clockwork Orange. Yet, despite the fact Earthly Powers is a compelling read, it's so satirical and distant that it never quite reaches its full potential.

Earthly Powers tells the story of Kenneth Toomey, an author who writes theatre for the masses and fiction he considers trash. He is also a homosexual who feels rejected by the church for his sexuality. His relationship with religion is muddled at best and contradictory at worst. His brother-in-law, Carlo, wants to be canonized as the Pope and must navigate the politics of religion very carefully to achieve this. Toomey's homosexuality is an open secret, and this doesn't do Carlo any favours.

Honestly, I think the novel features some compelling themes about morality, religion, faith, and whether or not personal morality and religious dogma can ever be reconciled. And yet, due to the satirical and distant writing style, I never really connected with the characters like I wanted to. The style feels oddly detached and ironic, which is strange because it feels like Kenneth Toomey's memoir in many ways. Maybe the ironic distance is the point and this novel isn't for me, but I really wanted more of an emotional connection from this piece of fiction. I feel like you should care for characters you spend time with for 649 pages, but maybe this is just Burgess' style.

A very serious novel which is remarkably funny, thought provoking and just plain odd. Despite its size and the quite profound ideas at its heart, it's also a real page turner: Burgess' gift for storytelling is perhaps underrated. The ease and elegance of the narrator's prose, his caustic wit remind me of Maugham, particularly the narrator of A Razor's Edge. Brilliant.

Low-brow high-brow.

I'm not ashamed to say (OK, actually I am, a little bit) that the narrator of "Earthly Powers" and its author are far too clever for me. I couldn't get through this story of an aging writer, his escapades throughout the 20th century and a man he knows who would be pope. The writing is sharp but best appreciated, I fear, by that insufferable elitist guy you meet at parties who irritates you with his knowledge, self-love and command of many languages. The latter trait I do not have, which made the narrator's frequent flashing of untranslated foreign languages an irritant (yes, it's one of my major pet peeves).

"Earthly Powers" is a book to admire. It's clever and amusing, but in what I term a "wise-ass" way. I didn't enjoy reading it. One doesn't have to love characters or even its narrator; there are many books with those characteristics that I like very much. But there was something else about the books that made me enjoy them. Here, finishing this extraordinarily long book would have been accomplishment and not pleasure. I turned my back on it.

While I'm sort of bashing the book, I'll add: the recent Europa Editions reprint has absurdly small type. I'm all for saving trees, but there's a point at which it gets ridiculous.